


When The Whiskey Doesn't Buzz

by nexttonotnormal



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alexander Hamilton - Freeform, Angst, Anxiety, Bittersweet, Depression, Fluff, George Washington - Freeform, Hamilton - Freeform, M/M, Self-Harm, Thomas Jefferson - Freeform, james madison - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 14:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6662503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nexttonotnormal/pseuds/nexttonotnormal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all started a couple months ago. What was he getting himself into?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Peaceful

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This story will contain mentions of self harm, depression, and anxiety. If you are easily triggered please do not read this. I would hate to have anyone triggered by my writing. Stay safe lovelies. <3
> 
> Ayyo! So this is the first multi-chapter fic that I have actually got down in a word document. The ideas usually just swirl in my head. Here goes nothing! Let me know if you guys would really like me to continue or not(although I probably would still continue it anyways. ;P)  
> Sorry for the shortness, future chapters will be longer.

James Madison had known Thomas Jefferson for years. They had met in a tavern one drunken night, introduced by George Washington himself. They had hit it off and became close friends, James never leaving Jefferson’s side. It was a rare sight when you found Thomas without him.

James would never admit this, but he had grown fond of his friend. More fond than you should be of someone you consider to be your best friend.

It all started a couple months ago.

It had been one of those late nights at the office. Thomas furiously writing away by candle light, trying to win over Washington, and James, sitting quietly on the couch, keeping his friend company. They spent many nights like this, they didn’t need to have a conversation to enjoy each others company.

Taking his glass off the stand beside him, he took a large gulp of whiskey. It always had been a personal favorite of his. It calmed his thoughts when they got out of hand, like they often did. James allowed his eyes to travel over to Thomas, noticing the way his shoulders slumped in fatigue. It had to be at least half past three in the morning. He was about to open his mouth to suggest he retired for the night, when Thomas beat him to it.

“Why don’t you retire for the night James? It’s getting late.” He had not stopped furiously writing whatever document he had been working on, despite his sleepiness.

“I am wide awake.” He honestly wasn’t too terribly tired, the alcohol in his system was keeping his mind at bay, and he was just feeling content. “You on the other hand, look exhausted. You need a break.”

Thomas let out a laugh, his curls moving with the shake of his head. “You kidding me? I could go all night.”

James let out a disapproving sigh, knowing very well that he would pass out soon from exhaustion.There would be no convincing him. Just because Hamilton stayed up all night writing, didn’t mean Thomas should.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, but eventually, the scribbling of the quill stopped. He looked up from the book he had decided on reading to pass some time, and saw his friend, his cheek down on his desk, quill still in hand, fast asleep. Setting the book down on the armrest, he stood up and carefully made his way over to Thomas, all intentions of waking him up and telling him he should head to his quarters. Something stopped him from waking him right off, however. His curls were all over the place, some falling over his eyes like a curtain. James didn’t know what came over him, but he lightly brushed some of the curls out of his face, being careful not to wake him.

He looked so peaceful in his sleep. When he was awake, he was always firing off sassy comments, full of a spunk that no one could take away from him. But here, now, he looked almost... _ vulnerable. _ James could feel something in his chest tighten, and not in a bad way. It felt like his heart was swelling with affection, on a different level than normal. He shook his head to pull him out of it. He needed to stop this. Thomas was his friend and nothing more. That’s what he told himself.

He reached for the quill that was still resting in Thomas’s hand, pulling it through his fingers with ease. He tensed up when the other man let out a deep sigh in his sleep. After his breathing evened back out, he relaxed. He did not want to be caught staring. After another moment, he placed a gentle hand on his arm and shook his friend lightly.

“Thomas.” James whispered.

“Hmm..” Thomas groaned, eyes slowly opening to see James standing above him. He sat up, running his hand through his hair. “I told you to head to bed.” He yawned, eyeing the smaller man before him.

James swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the way his heart leaped. The first thing Thomas said when he woke up was about him, he cared. _ “Of course he cares he is your friend.”  _ Allowing himself to smile, he set the quill he had been holding down on the desk. “It seems that the only one who needs to head to bed is you.” He teased.

“Yeah yeah yeah I’m going I’m going.” Thomas rolled his eyes, standing up from the desk and stretching his arms. He watched as James started to turn towards the door, and soon he followed after. “Goodnight James.” He smiled. It was a genuine smile. One that only James Madison got to see. It was his and his alone.

“Goodnight Thomas.” He hoped he hadn’t noticed the way his breath caught when he saw that smile. He watched him walk away, eyes lingering on the spot he had just been previously. He figured he could blame it on the alcohol that was currently buzzing in his system, but then again, he hadn’t drank all that much.

It was then he knew that he was in a lot more trouble than he originally thought.


	2. Something.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James Madison is a worrier. And he has good reason to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 woohoo! My dears, this is only the beginning of the angst.

**** James sighed, recalling the night that changed his outlook on his friendship with Jefferson. He would never be the same, would he? He slid into a large velvet chair that was in the study, nearby the fireplace. The warmth from the fire was comforting, allowing himself to relax for the first time in a week.

He and Thomas had spent all week hard at work, rummaging through piles and piles of papers. James would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy spending so much time with his friend. He enjoyed it more than he should have.

Why did he have to be so goddamn perfect?

He raised the glass in his hands to his lips, more whiskey. He hoped the fiery warmth that burned his throat and settled in his stomach would calm his mind. It seemed that it didn’t help much, unless he was especially drunk. He allowed his head to thump back against the back of the chair, staring at the orange glow of the flames. He had raised the glass up to take another drink, when the very person he was trying not to think about walked in.

His hair was in its natural curly fro, ringlets falling all around his face. He wore his favorite purple velvet suit, complete with his cane. He flashed James a smile at seeing his friend, but he noticed how it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Madison, what are you doing here at such an hour?” Thomas arched an eyebrow, trying to keep his usual spunk in his tone.

“It's the middle of the day Thomas.” James shot back, giving a playful eye roll. He set his drink of the floor beside him, eyeing Thomas. “What are  _ you _ doing here at this time of day?”

“Thought I would come here to get some well needed silence, but I can see I won’t be having any of that.” He grumbled, resting his cane against a nearby wall.

James immediately felt a bit guilty, although he had done nothing wrong. That was one thing Thomas called him out on a lot, was his high guilty conscience.

“I can leave, if that’s what you’d like-” He was cut off by his friend raising a hand.

“It’s fine, you aren’t very loud anyways.” Thomas made his way to the couch as he said this, firmly planting himself in the middle. He rubbed his face, and then ran his hands through his thick curls, his face slightly dropping. James wasn’t sure if he thought he wasn’t looking, or if he just didn’t care.

Should he ask why he seemed off? Or leave it be? After a moment of contemplation, he stood up. Feelings aside, he still felt he should be there for his friend.

He walked over to where Thomas sat on the couch, standing in front of him awkwardly. He fidgeted slightly. Since when did he get so nervous around him?

“Uhm, Thomas? Is, uh, everything, okay?” James asked, almost tripping over his words. Thomas looked up at him, giving him a smile that was obviously fake.

“Everything is just fine, you worry too much Mads.” He gently pushed James’s arm, trying to lighten the mood with teasing. He believed that he didn’t need the sympathy of others, he could manage perfectly fine by himself.

Although Thomas seemed fine on the outside, James still couldn’t help but feel the hum of worry flow through his veins. The air around his friend smelt of stale alcohol, that was enough to make anyone alarmed.

“Mind if I sit with you?”

“Go for it.”

James sat down next to Thomas, their legs brushing ever so slightly. How he wished he had brought his glass of whiskey with him. Just being this close made the air around him feel thick and hard to breathe.

How many times had they sat together on this couch? He couldn’t count. He bounced his leg, trying to calm the nerves settling in the pit of his stomach. He really had no reason to be nervous, besides the fact that there was something clearly wrong with Thomas, something he wasn’t willing to share. He allowed his eyes to slide over to Thomas, noticing the dark bags that were under his eyes. When was the last time he had slept? He knew they had been very busy that week, but there was still plenty of time to sleep.

“What are you looking at?” Thomas asked, his usually spunk not as evident.

James felt heat creeping up his neck, he had been caught staring. When he didn’t say anything, Thomas bumped him lightly with his shoulder, knocking him out of his paralyzed state.

“I-uhm, I am just worried about you Thomas..” Phew. That was close. Besides, he wasn’t  _ completely _ lying. He was worried about him. A lot actually.

Something passed over Thomas’s face, his left hand unconsciously moving to cover his right wrist that was covered by a sleeve. He eyed James, as if he was contemplating something. As soon as it came, it was gone, replaced by closed off features. “I really do appreciate the concern James, but really, I am fine.” The way he said it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anything.

James decided not to push it, knowing he would get nowhere. Instead, he rested his hand upon Thomas’s shoulder, trying to ignore the way his hand burned when he made contact with him. “If you ever need anything, I promise to try my best to help.” He said sincerely. This earned a slight upturn of the lips from Thomas, before his eyes went down to the hand on his shoulder.

“I have to go.” He breathed, moving James’s hand from his shoulder, and practically bolting out of the room.

James was a bit shocked at his sudden leave, was it something he had said? Had he taken it too far? He only had expressed his concern for him. He got up, deciding to go after him.

“Hey wait!” He called out, seeing the back of Thomas’s head a few feet ahead of him. He didn’t show any signs of stopping, and James was only so fast, with his short legs and all.

He gave in, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to catch up with those large strides. Then in the distance, he heard something that broke his heart.

He heard a muffled cry echoing through the walls, he would never forget the way it sounded, the pure pain that laced it. He felt guilt course through his veins, there was no way he could stop it was there? Not in the way he wanted to.

Maybe Thomas Jefferson hid more than anyone ever knew.

 


	3. Pain Isn't Always Obvious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day? Whaaaaaaaaaaat.   
> I felt in the writing mood, so wala! Chapter 3!  
> I apologize for the feels in advance.

Thomas let out a muffled cry into his sleeve as he leaned against the door to his quarters. He slid down the door, landing on the floor with a light thud. He hadn’t meant to bolt off like that, but he had panicked. James was close, too close. He had even considered telling his friend what was wrong, which was so unlike him. He didn’t need anyone to know his problems, his issues. He was Thomas Jefferson, and nothing could hurt him. Or at least that was at least what he liked to tell himself.

He couldn’t let that happen again. James was his best friend, but this was something he wasn’t willing to share with anyone. Tonight had been a particularly rough night, and he managed to look vulnerable.

“God dammit.” He muttered under his breath, leaning his head back against the door. Closing his eyes, he sucked in a deep breath, feeling the cool air soothe his lungs. After a few moments of breathing, he looked down, rolling up his right sleeve. His breath caught at the sight.

_ My God. _

It looked worse than he had originally thought. There were angry red lines covering the inside of his wrist and forearm, not particularly deep, but still painful looking. Why did he do this to himself? To make himself feel better? The relief didn’t last long. Within a couple hours he was ready to go at it again. It was horrible, and he knew it, but he felt he deserved as such. People would probably wonder why? Why did someone as successful and egotistical as Thomas Jefferson want to hurt himself?

He couldn’t really answer that.

Maybe it was all the nights he spent alone, with only a drink in hand to keep him company. Or the fact the only person who remotely cared if he lived or died was James. He had to stop and smile a little bit at the thought of his friend. He was so caring towards Thomas, even if he was a bit of an asshole. Okay, more than a bit. But despite that, he still stuck by him. Heaven knows why. If anything was good about his life, it was James Madison.

He thought of him often, he always blamed it on the fact that he was his only friend.

Yeah. That’s why.

Thomas pulled himself off the ground, feeling the sting on his wrist as his sleeve rolled back down. He wondered if James was worried about him. He probably scared the smaller man out of his wits bolting off like that, he probably thought it was something he did. Although it partly was. He raised his hand to where James had put his own on his shoulder. It still felt like the skin beneath the layers of purple velvet were on fire. He allowed his hand to drop, trudging over to change into more comfortable clothes.

After he had changed, he sat on the edge of his bed, staring down at his feet. He felt like a mess. With that, he reached for a half full bottle of wine that was on his bed stand. It was time to drown out the pain.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

James spent the rest of the day worrying. He hadn’t seen a sign of Thomas since he had trudged off to his room some hours earlier.

People took notice that the taller man was not by his side, and gave frowns of confusion. Even Alexander had stopped to ask where his mortal enemy was.

“Did Jefferson decide to quit finally? I mean, no one can match my writings.” Alexander gave a smirk, his ego showing clearly.

James on the other hand, wasn’t in the mood for this right now. “I highly doubt he would ever give up fighting you. But I have not seen him since earlier today.” He ran a nervous hand through his hair.

Alexander arched an eyebrow, sensing the nerves and worry coming off of James in thick waves. As much as he hated Jefferson, he did feel bad for James. “I’m sure he will turn up.” He told him with a forced smile, heading down the hall to his office. He was going to be up all night writing he was sure.

James decided he would go to Thomas’s room, see if he was still there. If not, he would come back the next morning. He knew sometimes he needed his space. But usually he told him before going off to be alone for a while.

He rounded the corner, coming face to face with the door that belonged to his dear friend that he cared about so much. He raised his hand to knock, hesitating. Letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, he knocked.

There was a sharp inhale from the inside of the room, and the sound of a bottle clinking to the floor. He heard some shuffling, and then finally was met face to face with Thomas. He looked a little embarrassed at seeing his friend. “Er, Hey.”

James was relieved to see his face. “Hi. Can I come in..?” He asked tentatively, wringing his hands. Thomas nodded and turned to allow him to pass, and he shut the door behind him.

The first thing he noticed was the disarray the room was in, two empty wine bottles decorated the floor, which didn’t surprise him. Thomas must have been drinking. There were random articles of clothing strewn about, and his small desk had papers scattered around in an unneat fashion. He decided to seat himself on the edge of his bed, his feet barely touched the floor.

Thomas stood a little ways away from him, until James patted the empty spot next to him. Sighing, the taller man complied, taking a seat next to his friend.

“What was that all about earlier?” James asked with concern written on his features. He only wanted to help. That’s all he ever wanted to do.

He was met with a sigh, and it took Thomas a minute to respond. “It’s really complicated. I’m fine now, really. You don’t need to worry so much, although I do appreciate the gesture.” He gave him a flashy smile, trying to steer him away from what happened.

James gave him a stern look, touching the other man’s thigh lightly. This was a bit bold and he knew it, but right now, he was willing to take the risk. “Thomas, I know you better than anyone, or at least...I think I do. You can trust me with whatever this is.” His voice was soft and reassuring.

Thomas looked down at the hand on his thigh, feeling like he was being scorched. He lifted his right hand to run through his hair, trying to decide what he was going to say, when his sleeve rolled down slightly.

He didn’t catch it in time. James saw.

James could feel panic rising in his chest. Did he just see what he thought he saw? He had to swallow hard to keep the bile in his stomach from coming up.  _ No. No no no no no. _

Thomas could see the rising panic and quickly pulled down his sleeve, cursing under his breath. He had helped James through many panic attacks before, but he had never been the cause of one.

“James. James can you hear me? Mads you have to breathe.” He tried keeping his voice even, reaching for his friends hand. He didn’t want to cross any boundaries, but this was an exception. He gripped his hand as tight as he could without hurting him.

He couldn’t breathe. Thomas had hurt himself. How long had he been doing this? How did it start? Why-why didn’t he tell him?

All these questions swirled in his mind, he could barely make out Thomas’s voice, it sounded like a buzzing in his ears.

In an instant, everything went black.

“James!!!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRYYYYYYYY


	4. Martha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talking proves to be a lot harder than anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I apparently like pain.  
> I had all intentions of making it a bit happier, but I am not in the best of moods soooo FEELS TRAIN CHOO CHOO

_ Oh dear lord.  _

Thomas caught James in his arms before he could fall to the hard floor, laying him back on the bed. He still kept his arms protectively around him, going on instinct.

He honestly was at a loss of what to do. He had never passed out from an attack, but he had come damn near close before.

_ Just relax Thomas. He will be fine. _

He closed his eyes, silently cursing his inability to cope. If he had never done it, James would've never saw it, and he wouldn’t be currently passed out on his bed.

He listened carefully, making sure his friend was breathing. He was, but the fact he had panicked so much to this point made guilt course through his veins. He took a couple of deep breaths, trying to will the guilt to ease, even if just a little. Thomas didn’t know what he would do without him. He was the only person who gave a damn about him anymore. That, he was sure of.

He shifted his gaze to look at James, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest, if he was completely honest, it relaxed him to see him breathing ever so gently. He let out a small sigh, rubbing his hand up and down James’s arm in a soothing motion. He was doing this because he was his friend and he needed his help. Right.

About fifteen agonizing minutes passed, when finally James began to stir. This perked Thomas right up, and he frantically searched his friends face.

James awoke to a very worried looking Thomas Jefferson. He didn’t think he’d ever seen him this worried before, which surprised him. Why would Thomas of all people, worry so much about him?

“James! My god are you okay? I’ve never seen you have such a bad attack before…” His voice trailed off a bit, his eyes casting downwards.

“I think so-” He froze. He remembered why he had the panic attack. He weakly pulled the arm that was draped around his shoulders(as much as he hated to take it away) off of him, eyeing Thomas as he cautiously pushed up his sleeve. A small gasp escaped his lips when he came face to face with the angry red lines. “Thomas…” He breathed sadly. Thomas had made no move to pull his wrist away, he just looked at it in shame. James swallowed thickly before speaking again. “How long..?”

A long silence.

“Since Martha died.” Thomas said, just barely above a whisper.

James saddened at the mention of his friend’s late wife. He had been so torn up when she passed, he hadn’t left his room for almost three weeks. How could he had not seen it? He wasn’t there for him, and he clearly was hurting in more ways than one. “Why-” He sucked in a deep breath. “Why didn’t you tell me? After Martha died, I could of helped, or at least kept you company to keep your mind off things.”

“After she passed, I realized no one gives a damn about me. So I kept it to myself.” Thomas put up a finger to stop James from speaking as he saw his mouth open. “I know you care. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.” He nodded silently, his hand still gently on his wrist. God, Thomas could feel the burning sensation again at where the other man’s fingers touched his skin. He didn’t really have a clue what it meant, or maybe he did, and just didn’t want to admit it to himself.

In response to Thomas’s words, he ran his thumb over the various cuts and scars with featherlight touch. He never wanted to see him hurt like this again, but what could he do? 

“I’m sorry.” Thomas mumbled, James looking up at him when he said that. He looked so...so...small. He had never seen him like this, had never seen his friend so vulnerable.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I made you pass out.”

Thomas felt the pang of guilt course through his veins once again.

James sighed,  _ curse his panic attacks. _

“Don’t feel guilty, it wasn’t your fault.” A pause. “I promise.” For some reason, that promise meant everything to Jefferson. He knew James wanted him to open up to him more. He could see it on his face, the way his eyes shone with worry and understanding. But he just couldn’t bring himself to say anything more. Not yet.

It seemed as though James understood this, sliding off of the bed to stand up, offering a hand to Thomas. He took the hand warily, and was surprised when he was pulled into the shorter man’s arms.

“I won’t make you talk. I won’t make you do anything for that matter. Just stay alive, that would be enough.” James kept a tight grip around him as Thomas stiffened a bit in surprise. He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. He couldn’t promise that he would be alive every day. But he wasn’t going to tell James that. He didn’t want him to suffer every day of panic attacks because of him.

“Thank you.” Was all he could get out as he finally relaxed into the hug. He knew when tomorrow rolled around, they wouldn’t even think about holding each other this way. But for now, he decided to just enjoy it for what it was, no matter how much he was in denial about what his heart was telling him. Brain over heart he always said, or at least that’s what he started saying after he lost Martha...he couldn’t be shattered like that ever again.

Finally, after another long moment, James stepped back, it finally sinking in what he had just done. He felt a dark blush across his cheeks, and was thankful that his skin tone was dark enough to mask it. He did  _ not _ need Thomas to see him blushing. They already went through so much today. It was getting late, and they both knew it. As much as James didn’t want to leave, he knew he had to.

“Be safe?” He asked just above a whisper as he walked towards the door.

Thomas blinked, nodding. It was a god damned lie, but he just couldn’t bring himself to tell him the truth. After another gaze from James, he slid out of the room, the door shutting with a click.

As soon as he knew his friend was gone, he started picking at the scabs that were forming on his cuts. It was bad, he knew that, but a little bit of pain never hurt anyone. He felt numb, he couldn’t tell if it was from all the alcohol he consumed, or the fact that all that happened. Maybe it was a little bit of both.

He needed to feel something. Anything. And alcohol certainly wouldn’t do that, it would have quite the opposite effect. After contemplating for a good twenty minutes, he grabbed the nearest sharp object(which happened to be his quill), and dug it into his left forearm, dragging it vertically all the way down to the top oh his wrist. Damn it hurt. But he felt it. He felt the pain.

It was bleeding, thick gobs of sticky blood dripping into his palm. This one was definitely going to scar. Big time. He stared down at the glistening blood, wondering what it might be like to simply drown in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm sorry frands


End file.
